Like The Stars and The Skies
by Hxstia
Summary: After being taken in by the Hermanns, Liesel falls into a state of depression. Every night, Liesel takes refuge by her window sill, her mind once filled with beauty and wonder, now held only one thing- death. Because when she thought of "till death do us part", she had never thought that it's promise only held up for one side. Or in this case, three.


Disclaimer: Neither this beautiful tale nor it's wonderful characters belong to me, for last I checked, I'm not a middle aged Australian man that spews from his lips gold and writes legacies with an ordinary pen. This is merely for entertainment purposes, mainly mine as I enjoy ripping peoples souls out with words and watching them grovel, as any author does.

Hats off to you, Zusak!

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Two years.

It took her two years to stop waking up in the middle of the night screaming for her mama, for her papa, for her Rudy.

It also took her two years to stop talking completely.

The only sound or noise she couldn't filter or completely ignore was the selfish nagging in her head. Always urging her to step forward, but she just couldn't.

Perhaps no one knew this, but even if Liesel Meminger hadn't believed in her führer, she had believed in god, and in heaven. And she knew that if she took that step torward gods abode, the faces she loved and recognized would merely shake their heads and walk away.

She wouldn't jump. No matter what.

Really, it was that she _couldn't_ jump. Not without seeing disappointed faces and sad words.

So she sat there every day, on her window sill. Watching the skies turn pink, to orange, to blue, to black, and sometimes, to something even darker than black. The stars were dull, making the night sky even darker, like it was mourning along with her.

But somehow, the sky's grief and the black's darkness all the more brought out the colours of the world. She often thought about the stars and what they did when all day and night- after napping under the warm glow of the sun's rays, while they waited for the blackness of the night sky to recede.

The sky was her salvation, but it made her so very sad. She would stare at the soft, silver of the moon, and think of papa's eyes. Warm and kindly, old and wise; shining through the darkness, burning itself out for the sake of others.

In the vast blackness she saw mama's soup, revolting and thick; something she hated and missed. The wind was cruel and sharp, cutting Liesel with its cold touch. But underneath, she sensed a very familiar sense of a hidden kindness- the gentle winds that carried along drowning leaves across rivers.

And in the stars? In the stars she saw Rudy. The boy who shone so vibrantly, so yellow, but eventually dulled into nothingness. Her sky was the three people she loved most.

And then there was Max. She hadn't seen him since he had left their little house on Himmel Street. It seemed like centuries ago. Sometimes, Liesel wished it were. They said that over time, pain dulled. However, she had experienced nothing of the sort. It intensified, really. The more she thought about the sky, about mama in the kitchen, and papa serenading her with a dusty accordion; Rudy, kicking around an old ball with Tommy Müller and the other boys on Himmel street.

What send her mad though, was Max. Was he alive? Had he survived the war? Was he dead? Had he finally lost his match against Hitler? The possibilities were endless.

Frau Hermann had sent for a therapist for Liesel. The poor man could only stare at her as she stared back at him, her face a blank canvas, completely devoid of emotion.

In the end she had been prescribed a diary, to which she laughed at. From the expression on the man's face and his eagerness to leave, she had learned one thing- she was insane.

Frau Hermann was patient. She never tried to coax Liesel into calling her mama, or her husband papa. She would talk to her, tell her stories, all while the girl in question sat by her window, looking up at her family.

Everyday, the mayor's wife would check on Liesel, always leaving disappointed. She was never using the diary. Everyday it would just sit on the table, while Liesel sat by her window. Sometimes, Frau Hermann just wanted to give up, but she just couldn't bring herself to, because despite the obvious fact that it had nothing to do with her, she felt guilty for that little girl. She felt undeserved guilt for a girl who delivered her laundry, but she couldn't help but wonder, for secretly, The lady did not believe in a god, she would wonder if there _were_ a god, what could this girl have ever done for him to punish her with this life? _What could she have ever done to deserve her life which was worse than death_?

But that was what Frau Hermann thought, for every night, beside the cool glass, she held that diary and wrote. She wrote until her hands were sore and she continued to write. She wrote words. Words like accordion, and soup, and Jew, and Rudy. Liesel Meminger wrote her words until the sky changed and took away her family as it did every dawn, and she would return it to the exact same spot where the good lady would find it every day, thinking it untouched.

And for nights and nights, she wrote and wrote, until finally, her heart stopped giving her words to write down.

But it didn't matter.

Because everywhere. Because her words had resonated everywhere.

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Hey guys! It's Hestia again. Thank you so much for reading, and if you liked it please leave a review, it'll only take a moment and it helps me in so many ways. For all you Book Thief fans, check out my other TBT story in my profile! Thanks again, and have a good day, evening, night, whatever.


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